Rose Cross Write Up [Character Study}

Soft hoof falls echo more sharply than they should as the young mare makes her way down the ravine.
High above the sun falls warmly across her stone gray coat. A few crows along the ledge look with hungered
interest at her slim, yet well rounded features. Spotting the gently twisted spear of horn thrusting up from
her unkempt, dark green and deep red locks makes them keep their distance. Heavy, unadorned saddlebags
weigh down upon her hips partially obscuring the overgrown tombstone cutie-mark. Her breath comes sharply
as she forces herself through the blistering crack in the earth. The heat and her thirst do little to diminish
the glint of determination in her clear, leaf green eyes. The freckles on her cheeks and the small chips and cracks
in her hooves bespeak of a mare well traveled, but the guileless shine of her large, open eyes tells a story of
naive optimism, and impulsive curiosity. There are more dangerous creatures that walk this steep valley. The crows
will wait to see if she will fall like many before and let them claim what must eventually be theirs in time.

Rose Cross' voice has a lilting tonality that sounds like a song even when she's merely speaking. The initial hesitance she presents when first meeting a new pony gives a breathy, soft quality to her normally clear tones, and when she is trying to show herself capable it rings out like a sharply struck glass bell. The shimmering aria of her simple conversation follows the ponies she meets as she moves from town to town bringing smiling memory to those who come on hard times.

Personality:
"Rose, you're not going, and that's FINAL!"
>You'd tried not to raise your voice, but you're shaking with rage.
>It takes all your effort not to purposefully use your immense frame to intimidate your tiny daughter.
>"Dad, I know you can't understand this but I HAVE to go."
>Brushstroke's quiet weeping in the face of your argument isn't helping anything. Your wife could at least support YOUR side of this...
>Your little girl.
>The foal you'd raised from a tiny, helpless infant is leaving you.
>And you don't think you can stop her.
"You have NO idea what it's like out there, Rosie! You've lived in a quiet little town all your life! We're a respected institution here, but out in the REAL world ponies don't give a FIG for who you are or where you come from."
>Her new-leaf green eyes stare unwavering back at you. You thought you saw a flicker of doubt when you used her pet name, but then it was gone.
>"Daddy, I'm not a foal anymore! You're right! I DON'T know what the world is really like. That's WHY I have to go!"
>You splutter for a moment as you pace across the room.
>Your hoofs clack dully on the shining, polished wood floor of your office.
>The ancient carved stone of the walls offer you no insight.
"Rosie, we've been here for sixteen generations. SIXTEEN! We've kept the faith when nopony else will! Our forebearers raised this cathedral as a bastion of faith against the tides of-"
>"The Tides of Heresy, Daddy. Yes, I know. I haven't lost the faith of the Sun. But I want to know my place! Why can't you understand that?"
>You spin on your hooves, livid at the interruption.
"BECAUSE YOU BELONG HERE!"
>You stomp the floor with a resounding crack.
>Rose and Brushstroke jump at the loud noise, but your daughter remains undeterred.
"Just WHAT exactly do you think you're going to find out there? Because I'LL tell you what you'll find!"
>You cut off your daughter as she tries to retort.
"The rest of Equestria wallows in the depths of its own iniquity! Those Alicorn worshipping fools have turned from the truth to follow their usurping masters!"
>Your chest heaves with restrained fury.
"The big cities and towns you are SO fond of are nothing but dens of thieves, and liars. Every one of them has turned their backs on the teachings of our fathers! They have no code, no belief to anchor them to the values that we hold dear! If you, in your innocence, try to walk among them you will be cut low and picked over by the very ponies you hope to befriend! I've seen it happen all too often! You are my one and only daughter. My only CHILD! I will not let these base and loveless heathens claim you! I would tear down the walls of Canterlot with my bare hooves to spare you such a fate!"
>Your impromptu sermon has left you winded and tired beyond words.
>Your daughter's ears and tail lay drooping, her head hung low. Did you finally, FINALLY get through to her?
>"Daddy?"
>Her sweetly chiming voice cuts through your mind like a blade of clear daylight.
>You look down at her, and she gulps and tries to raise her head.
>"I want to explain. I want to tell you what I feel. Why I have to go. Will you listen? Not talk, not get mad and start yelling. Just listen?"
>You stand there staring at her for a moment. Something tells you you've already lost her.
>You look over at Brushstroke.
>She looks up at you with her tear-streaked face and nods at you with a little smile. She pats the spot next to her on the sofa with her hoof.
>You swallow audibly and make your way over to the sofa. It creaks and bows slightly as you sit next to your first and greatest love.
>Rose walks over to stand in front of you, her pretty face framed by the beautiful painting of the cathedral behind her that her mother had made so many years ago.
>She takes a deep breath. Her eyes closed in a silent prayer to the Sun.
>When she opens them again you see yourself reflected in her determined gaze. Eyes exactly the same shade as your own.
>"Daddy, I've followed your teachings and the ways of the Church my whole life. I know we're the last keepers of the faith. But I don't know what that faith means. When you gave me the grounds to tend I was so happy. Even the stones of the graveyard were only the chapters in the story of our continuing family. And Mom taught me to draw. She showed me the colors of the world and how they could be captured and make things that are new and exciting. Then I started to write. I heard stories from the ponies that came through the town, and I started to make up my own about the places they'd been and things they might've seen."
>She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
>"And then I went into town, and I started telling one of my stories. I had a bunch of pictures to go along with it."
>This was news to you. What is she..?
>"Ponies started coming from all over to listen, and they were all sitting around me. I was terrified, but I kept on going."
>You look over at Brushstroke and she simply nods and continues listening. She knows about this?
>"Soon it was like the whole town was there. They just sat there quietly as I told my story. The grocer's son Vineleaf started changing out the pictures when I motioned. It's like we were all in a trance. Me especially."
>Shes shaking on her hooves. Why had she never told you this? You knew she liked to write stories...
>"As the story came to an end I felt...something. A light started to flare all around me, and then I...I had my cutie mark..."
>She turns to the side showing the cutie-mark that you were so familiar with.
>The cracked grey face of a cross-shaped tombstone showed clearly from her flank. Rose vines hug and climb around it with a large rose blossom directly in the center.
>You remember the day she got it. You were so proud. Or you thought you remembered.
>She'd been tending the graves and their stones for years, and she always planted fresh flowers around them with a quiet prayer for guidance and peace.
>She told you then that she had gotten her cutie mark while doing her task.
>You're speechless.
>"D'you remember the story I showed you? The one about the mad fool and the Canterlot nobles?"
>You nod still trying to process this information.
>"That was the story I told that day. Don't you see? I have to go! I have to see what's really out there! I have to taste it all, and see where the real truth is!"
>You remember the story. It had surprised you. You'd been through Canterlot when you toured Equestria as a colt. You'd seen the glowing white city on the mount. It's spires and minarets gleaming in the setting sun.
>Her story took you back there. The cobblestone streets, and narrow alleys. The slate roofs and noisy, buzzing crowds.
>You'd asked Brushstroke if she'd sneaked in a travelogue or something that Rose could've read for information, but the answer was no.
>You'd never told your daughter that you had left home to see the world. Some of the things you'd seen haunted you to this day.
>But if what she's saying is true, and you don't believe she's lying now, then you have no idea what her cutie mark means either.
>Colts and fillies trying to find the meaning of their marks is a right of passage, and while you had breathed easy believing that your daughter's was simple and straight forward, now...
>"Daddy?"
>You look up into the pride of your life's eyes and feel the old fear still twisting your insides.
>But you can't deny your own daughter her destiny.
"Fine."
>She freezes in place from surprise.
>You stand from the couch and place your hoof under her chin.
"Then go, my daughter. I'll not stand in the way of your destiny. Here..."
>You move over to your desk and unlock a bottom drawer with a key from around your neck.
>You pull out a massive, leather bound volume stained and worn from the passage of countless miles and hardships.
"I was a year younger than you when I left home. Take this with you. It's all that I saw, felt, and learned. By the Sun, I pray it helps keep you safe."
>Even at a third of your size she nearly bowls you over in a tackling hug.
>"Thank you, thank you, thank you sooooooo MUCH, Daddy! Oh, MOON I can't believe I'm really going!"
"Watch your mouth, young lady. I'll not have you return to us spouting heresy."
>You smile warmly to take any sting from your words.
"Just make sure you return to us. Whole, and smiling."
>She wipes a tear from her eye as her mother walks up to you and she wraps you both in a tight hug.
>"I promise, Daddy."

[End]